Did she tend Cecile as she tended me? Wherever had our cruel doubts sprung from? Was it Gaunt's fancy or mine that had produced them?

'Now,' she said, as she finished the dressing operation, if you take my advice you will certainly go and change those damp clothes.'

I obeyed her, for the doctor departing she returned to Cecile, and the dark room in her absence was not sufficiently attractive to make the further neglect of my own comforts supportable.

When I came back I found the lamp lighted, the table cleared, and Gaunt sitting in his arm-chair with a very tolerably cheerful expression of countenance.

'It's all right, Mark,' he exclaimed as I entered.

'Hinks says she'll be well enough in a day or two. No harm done, thanks to the plucky way in which you pulled her out of the water. Thank you, old fellow!'

Dick's heavy hand clutched mine, and judging of the extent of his gratitude by the pain he inflicted on me, I had every reason to be satisfied with it.

It startled me a little, however, for truth to tell I never fancied Dick had noticed that I had taken Cecile from the water; or if he had, had considered it anything more than a slight advantage I had gained over him by my superior swiftness.

Having given vent to his feelings, and received my 'Oh yes-all right,' in acknowledgment, Mr. Richard Gaunt resumed his seat, and I suppose felt embarrassed, for he again took to biting his nails.

Under all circumstances, you know, Mark,' he began suddenly, 'I can't help feeling particularly obliged to you. Many men,' he continued, struggling to express himself clearly, and at the same time not in direct terms, 'would have perhaps felt that-that the position-I mean want of confidence as you may fancy-you understand, Mark, don't you?' he added, winding up quickly, and looking up at me with his pleasant, honest eyes quite aglow with the excitement of his feelings.

'Oh yes! Of course I do,' I re

plied, wishing to end explanation as much for my own sake as his (I abominate anything approaching a scene), though the exact meaning of what he wished to convey found its way rather mistily to my mind.

And you know, Mark,' he continued, very much with the air of a schoolboy who was forcing himself to have it out and make a clean breast of it, it isn't that'-(what? I wondered) but because honour forbids, and even your own words, that I don't even now

Again he paused, excessively embarrassed, and evidently annoyed at being so embarrassed.

I felt a little hurt. If you mean, Richard,' I said coldly, that after this evening's occurrence I think myself entitled to your confidence, and that you must still decline to give it me, all I reply is that your opinion of me is not very generous.'

'I don't mean that, either,' he answered, looking excessively pained; however, it's no use saying more; I only make a hash of explanations-I always did.'

I was rather amused, in spite of my annoyance, at Dick's imagining he had been explaining anything by his intense muddle and his broken sentences; however, I turned quietly away, and took pretty good care to end them by making, and encouraging no further remark from Gaunt on the matter.

Dick broke the silence in a few minutes by observing in a low voice

'Miss Owenson is still with Cecile; she has offered to remain with her the night, in company with the landlady.'

'Very kind of her,' I answered, with another of those reproachful pangs at having ever suspected her of anything but the most disinterested kindness to Cecile.

'Very,' Gaunt said; 'particularly considering her former evident dislike to the child. Women certainly are incomprehensible,' he added.

He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened, and in came the very subject of our remarks.

Whether she had heard or not was impossible to discover by her countenance; when she turned to the light, however, I fancied her eyes

regarded Gaunt with a slightly anxious look.

'Cecile is sleeping,' she said, 'so I came to beg you to lend me a book.'

Such a request was the most natural that could be made, and it was proffered in the most natural tone in the world.

We both rose, and Gaunt offering her his chair, begged her, though in a constrained voice, to sit down, adding that as Cecile was sleeping there was no occasion to hurry back to her. I did not quite understand why Gaunt's manner should have changed; certainly I had not seen them together since the portrait scene, and then they had not parted on the best terms; it might be a lingering sulkiness.

She

Margaret would not stay. said briefly she had undertaken a duty, and she wished to fulfil it properly. Cecile was feverish and restless-she did not like to leave her; and again she requested Gaunt to lend her some light book that would not send her to sleep.

There was something very decided in her manner of refusing our invitation to stay. Perhaps she was offended at something she had overheard us say or perhaps-but in spite of the respect I had for her real purity, I could not help feeling this 'perhaps' very vague-Miss Owenson's sense of propriety was shocked at the idea of sitting alone with two young men in their own apartment at that hour; at any rate she firmly refused the chair. At the furthest end of the room was Dick's closet of private valuables: here he kept his pet pipes, his choicest cigars, his writing-case of love relics, his few books, &c., &c., and thither he went to search for a novel: not a little puzzled, I guessed, as to the selection he should make among the works of light literature which he considered amusing reading.

He stood for so long, lamp in hand, before this receptacle of rubbish, that perhaps it was as much weariness as curiosity that suddenly inspired Miss Owenson to go and assist his choice.

'A various collection, I must say,' I heard Margaret exclaim, and turnVOL. VII.-NO. XL.

ing round I saw her standing in front of the closet, her eyes eagerly regarding within. Pipes, canisters, books, bottles, and Heaven knows what!'

Gaunt made some rejoinder, and then they began searching among the books. The door was half closed upon them, and from where I sat I could scarcely distinguish what they said. They spoke in low tones-Margaret especially; from Gaunt now and then I heard the word 'Cecile,' and from his softened way of speaking I imagined he was thanking (probably in the same muddled manner he had thanked myself) Miss Owenson, and was making his peace with her. Suddenly the door was opened, and I heard Margaret exclaim, Ah! Mr. Gaunt, you have at least one curiosity among your treasures; that Indian box, there, how very pretty!'

'Oh! an old thing nothing curious in it,' Gaunt replied. 'I can assure you my amber mouthpieces and this carved hookah are very much more valuable and curious.'

'No doubt, in your estimation. Will you let me look at the box, though? I take a strange interest in anything Indian.'

Gaunt coughed. 'I should be very happy,' he answered hastily, 'only it's full of papers-family papers.'

Oh! I beg your pardon for being so indiscreet then. I don't quarrel with you, Mr. Gaunt, you see,' and I heard Margaret's laugh come softly and pleasantly, as you did with me about the portrait.' As she spoke she came away from the closet. 'Mr. Owen, I must apply to you; your friend has nothing really readable,' she said, sitting down in Gaunt's arm-chair, apparently quite oblivious of her recent anxiety to fulfil the duty she had undertaken. A couple of hours passed before she did recollect it, and then it was brought to her remembrance by the landlady's voice observing, from (discreetly) behind the door, 'I think, ma'am, Miss Cecile ought to take her draught now.'

Miss Owenson disappeared in an instant.

2 B

dling towards Mr. Sloper's office in a Hansom cab. The Kettle-menders' Hall is an ancient and somewhat dingy-looking edifice of the last century, approached by a little alley from one of the principal thoroughfares in the ward of Billingsgate. A peculiar and somewhat fishy smell pervades the atmosphere of the place, which, under other circumstances, might have been disagreeable. As it was I felt in too good spirits to be annoyed at anything, and walked rapidly on through a crowd of ragged children who were playing at hop-scotch in the court, until I reached the door of my benefactor's office, which was opened by a red-haired clerk in a threadbare dress coat with very tight sleeves and a great dearth of buttons. He had a pen behind his ear and a slight defect in his sight, which gave him the appearance of keeping one eye on the goose-quill while the other looked steadfastly ahead.

Mr. Sloper received me with great affability, gave me to understand that he had already taken steps in my behalf, and mentioned the names of several influential members of the Right Worshipful Company of Kettle-menders who had promised their vote and interest.

'But no time is to be lost, my dear sir,' he added; there are two other candidates already in the field, and an active canvass is going on. Look here!' and he tossed me over a circular setting forth in bold type the claims of one of my opponents. 'We must get some of these things printed at once, you know, and sent round to the Aldermen and Common Council. Better order a few hundred neat cards at the same time, with your name, address, and occupation in full. When they are ready, you must go round to the different wards and call on the corporation-there are only two or three hundred of 'em-p'raps you'll find some of them out; never mind, leave a card, and say you'll call again. In short, keep on calling until you've seen them all. Nothing like a personal canvass, my dear sir. Tackle them individually yourself, and insist upon a vote from each. A little energy and perseverance, and the

thing is done. The last HighJinksman worked night and day for three weeks before he got the appointment, wrote his letters all night, and kept on calling all day. He was a little done up by the time the election came off, to be sure, but he won with flying colours, my dear sir-with flying colours.' And here Mr. Sloper waved a yellow silk bandanna pocket-handkerchief triumphantly, and blew his nose like a bugleman sounding victory.

I took advantage of this pause to make some inquiries as to the duties of the post, and hinted a doubt whether I might be duly qualified.

'Duties, my dear sir!' cried Mr. Sloper, energetically; pooh! that's an after consideration. Besides, it's a mere sinecure. I've no notion at present what you'll have to do, but I am quite sure you'll be able to do it. Qualified! of course you're qualified. Why, you were brought up at Eastminster, weren't you? and besides, you've been called to the bar: that's quite sufficient. Why, the last High-Jinksman hadn't half your advantages. First get the post, and then we'll talk about qualifications. Now, pray don't go saying anything of that kind to the Common Council, or you wont get a single vote; it would be horribly indiscreet, you know. Put a bold face on the matter, and say you can do anything; there's nothing like saying you can do anything.'

'Then you think I'd better order the cards and circulars at once?' I asked.

'Immediately, my dear sir-don't lose an instant. There's a capital printer in Eastcheap, round the corner, and do tell him to let the type be bold and legible; none of your small finicking stuff which nobody can read. Half the Common Council can't see without spectacles, and if they've any trouble in deciphering your testimonials, ten to one they'll throw them in the waste-paper basket. Why, the last High-Jinksman' 'All right,' said I; 'I'll see to it at once. How many cards did you

say?'

'Why, let me see; two hundred -three hundred and fif- better